AN: As always, thank you to those who reviewed, you guys are amazing. Hope everyone is doing well.

Take care and enjoy.

CHAPTER 15

"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love..."

Henri Frédéric Amiel

CATHERINE POV

I don't know when a new screaming joined mine.

My throat raw, my screaming stops long enough for me to drag in a ragged breath.

"Catherine!"

Feeling someone shaking me, I cling to Sara's body tighter, refusing to be separated from her.

"Catherine, let go!"

Hands grab me under the shoulders, pulling me roughly back.

Kicking out, I land a few good blows before something in the voice registers with me.

"Catherine!"

Feeling someone taking my face in their hands, my eyes meet with the panicked gaze of DB.

"Russell…?"

He lets out a relieved breath, eyes wide and fearful.

"We got here as soon as we could," he breathes out, voice shaky.

"Sara," I struggle between sobs. "Sara…"

He glances over, tormented eyes watching Sara's bloodied body hanging from the chains, police officers and EMS workers struggling to get her down. Someone is yelling for bolt cutters.

"Catherine," DB forces out. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I whisper, body in shock as I watch them cut the chains, Sara's body falling lifelessly into their waiting arms. "She…"

DB struggles to maintain his composure.

"She's strong…"

"She's dead," I growl out, anguished pain forcing through my insides. "They…she chose death…"

My words are making no sense, but DB doesn't need my words to know the situation. We can all clearly hear the words being yelled out by the paramedics.

No pulse. Not breathing. Airway obstructed. Blood loss.

DB swallows, placing a comforting arm around me as he fights back tears.

"Come on," he says gently. "Let's get you out of here."

Neither of us move, however, eyes fixed on the brunette being strapped down to a stretcher.

We only leave after she does.

"Cath?"

Nick steps up to me, the last member of the team to arrive.

Without a word, he encircles me in a tight hug.

"God, Catherine," he breathes out. "Are you alright?"

He pulls me back so that he can assess me with his worried, tearful eyes.

"Yeah," I tell him, sending him a tired smile. "Just the arm."

"We both know better than that," he whispers.

I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. He knows better than anyone that after an ordeal like this, the physical problems are often the least of the battle.

"Sara?" he questions, and my heart sinks at the mention of her name.

"No news still," I answer, voice tight.

She's been in surgery for nearly four hours now. My own arm was operated on and casted within the first hour.

They had wanted to keep me for observation, but I refused. I wanted to wait for news about Sara out here with everyone else.

With our CSI family.

Absently, I finger the metal chain in my hand, rubbing my thumb over the smooth surface.

Sara's doctors had taken her possessions, giving them to Brass to keep for evidence.

This one item, however, was overlooked until she went in for surgery. So, they gave it directly to me instead.

It's a metal chain that I recognize having always seen Sara wearing. But, she always kept it tucked under her shirt. Now, I see that along the chain is a metal of Saint Gabriel.

I'm not sure of the significance, knowing Sara isn't particularly religious, but I simply add it to the long list of mysteries regarding Sara Sidle.

This time, however, I'm worried that the answer to those questions may never be able to be given.

I resume my pacing along with most of the other members of the team, everyone's expressions dour. They didn't need me to tell them how bad the situation is.

Most of them saw her lifeless body. And, those that didn't, saw her blood spattered along almost every surface of those rooms.

Two hours later, an exhausted doctor makes his way towards us.

DB and I step forward, somehow everyone in silent agreement that we should be the ones to get the news.

The doctor lets out a sigh.

"She's alive," he states, but his expression isn't celebratory. "Barely. We got her heart restarted and tried to patch up as much of the damage as we could, but it was extensive. The internal damage alone…"

He shakes his head.

"We got the bleeding stopped for now, most of the bones reset." He pauses. "She's stable at the moment, but we're going to have to go back in and finish repairing the remainder of the damage once her internal injuries are more stabilized."

I swallow tightly, seeing DB doing the same.

"What's her chances?" DB whispers out.

The doctor pinches his temples.

"If she makes it through the night, I'd say she's got a shot."

If she makes it through the night.

"Can we see her?" I question, barely recognizing my own voice.

He watches me, no doubt knowing who I am and what the circumstances were that brought the brunette to his operating table.

"I seem to recall them wanting to do some monitoring for you overnight," he states. "I don't see why they can't monitor you both at the same time…"

I close my eyes in relief, more than happy to accept his bargain.

"Deal."

"Oh God," I hesitate, feeling a strong arm holding my elbow.

"Slow breaths," the voice tells me. "In and out."

I do as instructed, trying to pry my eyes from the sight before me.

They warned me. But, nothing could have prepared me properly for this. I know it's a miracle she's even alive, having felt her heart stop with my own hands, but this…this is…

"She's okay," the nurse states gently. "Looks intimidating, I know. But she's not in pain."

I don't argue with her, deciding to accept her platitudes, no matter how unfounded they may be.

"Can I?"

I hesitate, eyes moving from Sara's prone form to the nurse.

"Sure," she says.

Moving with me, she helps get me situated in the chair at Sara's bedside.

Silently, I reach out, brushing the dark hair from her face.

Running my fingers gently across her cheekbone, I'm forced to stop my motion when my fingers reach the breathing tube securely fastened to her mouth.

Most of her body is covered by blankets, but I see her shoulders and her upper torso.

"Her arm?" I question, noting the way her left arm is restrained against her body.

"That's some of the damage they're going to repair during the next surgery," she tells me softly. "Her collarbone was shattered, but they needed to focus on her other injuries."

"Her ribs," I state.

The nurse hesitates a moment before nodding.

"How bad?"

She pauses. "Bad."

I don't ask anymore questions, not thinking I have it in me to hear the answers.

Seeing Sara like this, it's hard enough without knowing everything going on that I can't even see.

Moving my hand down, I take her good hand in mine, holding it tightly.

The limp appendage in my own sends silent tears down my face.

I've never seen Sara so vulnerable, so young, so exposed.

She's always been strong, stoic, intense.

Feeling her empty grip, it's heartbreaking.

"I'll leave you be," the nurse whispers respectfully. "Hit the call button if you need anything."

Nodding, I sit silently by Sara's side. I don't know how much time passes before I lower my head, placing it down near her hip.

Keeping my grip on her firm, for the first time since we were taken, I close my eyes.

I close my eyes and hope this nightmare doesn't follow me into my dreams.

Sara was brought into surgery again about an hour after I woke in the morning.

I've been sitting in the empty room she was in, silently watching the hours tick by.

DB joined me awhile ago, and has finally given up his attempts at getting me to go home.

So, instead, we sit in silence, awaiting Sara's return.

Thankfully, this surgery doesn't last as long as the first, the brunette returning to the recovery room about three hours later.

She does, however, look just as terrible as the last time I saw her.

In fact, she looks worse.

Hours stretch by, I'm not sure how many, before Morgan steps in for DB and finally convinces me to head back to her place for at least a shower and a meal.

"How did you guys…?" I trail off, trying to force down the sandwich she kindly prepared for me.

My hands can't seem to stop shaking as I pull pieces of the bread apart.

She knows exactly what I'm asking.

"We found the crash site where the Tahoe was forced off the road," she states, watching me. "We followed the evidence and spotted a secondary crash site. Found a piece of the suspects' smashed out tail light there along with Sara's abandoned Tahoe."

She smiles slightly, "There was a part of the vehicle's VIN number on the tail light. We traced the VIN number to James' partner, to old properties his family owns around the city. Got lucky on our second location."

I shake my head.

"Sara saved my life by coming after us, hitting their car to leave more evidence behind."

Morgan simply watches me, not knowing enough about the events to realize the full meaning of my statement. But, she's smart enough to guess.

"She should've left me," I push away the plate with half a sandwich still on it. "She should've left me. Or she should've killed that girl."

I realize for the first time I never even asked how Olivia was doing. They must have rescued her as well.

I feel guilty that I never thought to ask.

I feel even guiltier that I don't care to ask now.

"What happened when you got there…?" I push further, trying to finally acknowledge the events.

"James is dead, shot himself when the cops stormed the place."

"Coward," I mutter. "His partner?"

She sighs.

"In custody."

"Good," I answer coldly. "He doesn't deserve an easy out. Not after…"

We both go silent, no further words needed.

"We should get back," I state.

Morgan is wise enough not to argue.

It took three days for Sara to respond to my squeezes to her hand, her own hand weakly squeezing mine in return.

It took another two days and four hours for her to open her eyes for the first time.

Her hazel gaze blinked hazily around the room before spotting me.

Then, she panicked.

Perhaps seeing me made her remember our situation. She was frantic to get to me, speak to me.

Which, doesn't work so well when you have shattered ribs and a breathing tube lodged in your throat.

They had to sedate her.

Now, about a week and half since Sara was first admitted, she's finally consistently conscious enough to know where she is and why she's here. She's aware enough to know that I'm at least physically okay. She responds to our questions by squeezing our hands.

Not quite ready to be breathing on her own, the breathing tube is still in place.

Which, Sara has been less than happy about.

In fact, she's tried on more than one occasion to pull it out herself.

Now under constant surveillance, she's on a first name basis with most the nurses. One nurse in particular, Hannah, is just enough of a hard ass to keep Sara from trying more of that recklessness that is so typical of the brunette.

Now, about ten minutes away from finally having the tube removed when the doctor finishes his rounds, Sara is anxious to get it done. Her hazel eyes keep moving around the room, glancing from me to the door, then back again.

"I know, Sar," I whisper, smiling slightly as I hold her good hand. "Soon."

She squeezes my hand in response, sending me an apologetic look.

"Don't be sorry," I tell her. "I'd be just as anxious as you are to get that thing out. You know how much I love to talk…"

Sara's eyes glint slightly in agreement.

"But, even though you're more the 'strong silent type,'" I breathe out, gripping her hand tightly, "I know you must be frustrated. And, I have to say I'm so eager to hear that voice of yours again."

It's a miracle that we're even having this 'conversation' right now. To think there was any chance that Sara would be alive, let alone communicating with me, it's amazing. It's hard to wrap my head around, to be honest. To feel the gut wrenching pain of thinking she was gone forever, to now reveling in the fact that she's been given back to us.

Battered, broken, and a long way from being okay, but she's back. She's alive.

Holding her hand, we wait another couple minutes before the doctor comes in.

"Alright, Sara," he smiles. "You ready for the big moment?"

Sara nods, sending Dr. Roth a pleading look.

"Okay," he states, getting down to business. "Catherine, I'm going to ask you to step back and let Hannah take your place so she can assist me."

I do as asked, giving Sara's hand a final supportive squeeze before stepping away.

Hannah moves into place, gently removing the tape and the strap holding the breathing tube in place.

"Alright, Sara," Dr. Roth says from Sara's other side. "I'm going to gently, but quickly pull this out. I want you to breathe in as deeply as you can and then hold it until I tell you to cough. I know it's going to hurt with your ribs, but do the best you can."

He waits for her nod.

"Breathe in."

Sara does, eyes flashing in pain at the strain on her ribs.

"Hold it."

Dr. Roth pulls forcefully on the tube, moving it up and out quickly.

"Cough."

Sara does, paling at the pain it sends through her battered body.

Getting the tube completely out, Hannah steps in with a plastic container as Sara starts to gag.

"Slow breaths," she instructs gently, trying to keep Sara's upper body as still as possible.

Finally, Sara's body stops heaving, her breathing slightly halted and shallow as she lays her head back against the pillow, eyes shut tightly.

Hannah nods to me.

Immediately taking Dr. Roth's place, I absently listen to his follow-up instructions as I stroke Sara's hair gently.

"You did great," I whisper to her. "It's done, honey."

Sara reaches up, opening her eyes as she uses her good hand to quickly wipe at the involuntary tears that escaped during the process, her body's natural reaction to the heaving.

Reaching over, she uses the same hand to hold mine.

Watching me for a moment, she finally smiles slightly.

"Hey."

Her voice is hoarse, barely audible, but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

I don't even bother trying to wipe the tears from my own eyes.

"Hey," I laugh in response.

I don't care about the nurse, about the doctor, anything.

Leaning in, I repeat my actions in that hellish room where Sara hung dying.

I promised myself if I was lucky enough to be given a second chance, I wouldn't waste it.

Placing my lips against Sara's, I kiss her deeply.

After a moment, I pull away, watching her closely.

Seeing confusion and surprise coloring her expression, I kiss her again softly one last time before leaning back.

"I, uh," I clear my throat. "I'm going to go update the team…"

Sara's concerned eyes follow me, a shaky "Okay" reaching my ears.

"See you soon," I tell her with a smile, escaping out into the hall.

Once I'm alone, I take a shaky breath.

It's one thing to kiss Sara when she's unconscious, when she's unaware of my actions and my feelings. It's another thing entirely to do it when she's awake.

Shit, what have I done?

The guys have been in to see Sara, each visiting with her for a couple minutes before visiting hours are over.

She smiles and tries to talk to respond to them as best she can, voice hoarse and rough, but still such a relief for everyone to hear.

Her eyes keep glancing over to mine, however, even as she's joking with the guys.

I can practically see the thoughts running through her head, the perceptive brunette trying to work her way through the puzzle that was my kissing her.

She's trying to figure out my intentions, the meaning of the kiss, all of it.

And, as her hazel gaze searches mine, I fear that she can see every answer she seeks.

Looking away, I excuse myself, leaving to let the guys visit with her.

Leaving to keep my feelings inside where they belong.

It's not fair to have put Sara in that awkward position. To ambush her the first moment I get the chance. Yes my intentions were good, but she's still in critical care, still struggling to remain stable from her surgeries, her injuries.

She's in pain, she's essentially suffering every time she takes a breath, and here I am forcing myself and my feelings on her.

She deserves better.

Pinching my temples, I head towards the front doors of the hospital, stepping outside to get some fresh air.

Sara deserves someone right now who can support her, can help her in her recovery. She doesn't need someone sending her new issues.

But, even as I say those things to myself, the one thing I cannot keep from repeating in my head, is the knowledge that she didn't kiss me back.

She didn't kiss me back.

She was in the same situation I was for at least some time during our ordeal. She was told that I was dead, that she would never have the chance to see me again.

I had assumed in my head that if Sara felt even an ounce of what I felt for her, then she would, like I did, jump at the second chance she'd been given the first moment she got.

But, her eyes didn't hold those emotions when I pulled back from kissing her.

There wasn't love, relief, joy.

There was none of that in her hazel gaze.

There was confusion, concern, and what almost looked like guilt.

She didn't kiss me back.

Sighing, I take a deep breath of the evening air, forcing myself to let go of those thoughts and focus on what's important.

Sara's alive.

Beyond all odds, Sara's alive.

Everything else comes second.

AN: Thanks for reading. And no, of course I wouldn't kill Sara! I wouldn't do that to you guys :)